According to John
by Sopphires
Summary: Songfic based on 'According to You' by Orianthi. Sherlock's been stabbed. He's in hospital, again. He's being called an idiot, he's bored. He wants John. There's just one problem; where is John?


According to John

_According to you I'm stupid, I'm useless  
>I can't do anything right<em>

"Sherlock you are stupid." Sherlock stared down Mycroft. He was once more lying in a hospital bed, he had foreseen the possibility of him being armed but the probability of him having two weapons had been very small. That was the problem with probability. There was the chance that something might not go happen as you thought. He had not anticipated the knife, he admitted only to himself.

"We leave you alone for five minutes and you nearly get yourself killed. You really are quite useless at looking after yourself."  
>"I acquired the gun and stopped him from doing any serious damage, to my brain."<br>"And were then stabbed in the gut. Then you do not have the common sense to stay, despite the fact the police and ambulance are on their way. You then collapse in the alley way and nearly die due to blood loss." He shook his head, pushing himself to his feet via his umbrella. Looking down on Sherlock he shook his head.  
>"Try and do the right thing next time."<p>

* * *

><p><em>According to you I'm difficult, hard to please<br>Forever changing my mind_

"SHERLOCK!" Sherlock, who was half way into the cab didn't stop. "Where do you think you're going?" He turned to face Mycroft's high heeled assistant. She had obviously just been left behind to make sure he didn't leave.  
>"Home." was all he said before he heaved his other leg into the cab and collapsed. Speaking to the cabbie he said "I need you to take me to 221B Baker Street, immediately." The cabbie looked at 'Anthea' unsure. She shook her head.<br>"Drive away now and your life won't be worth living." The cabbie gulped and took the keys out of the ignition. She bent over Sherlock an exasperated look on her face.

"What part of 'you nearly died' don't you understand?" Sherlock scowled at her.  
>"I understand perfectly. I also understand that they wish to keep me under observation. That is why I wish to go back to my flat with my <em>doctor<em> flat mate."  
>"Sherlock, John isn't there at the moment. Remember?" Sherlock looked at her blankly. "Oh he'll kill you when he finds out you deleted it." She sighed. "Let's get you back inside." She heaved up Sherlock and they walked slowly back to the hospital. "Can you please tell me what part of 'massive blood loss so stay in bed' didn't you understand."<br>"I understood it all perfectly I just chose not to do it."  
>"Sherlock you have to stay put."<br>"No I hate hospitals. Dull."  
>"God you're hard work, how does John put up with you?" Sherlock didn't answer. "Look I'm sure Mycroft has some tricky, quirky problems that could keep you occupied."<br>"I won't do anything from Mycroft."  
>"So you don't want to be bored but you don't want to be entertained. What do you want?"<br>"Go home."  
>"Not an option. How about I get a cold case from the police."<br>"No they're useless, all the evidence is obliterated by the buffoons like Anderson. You could shut up and let me think if you really wanted to help." Anthea frowned.  
>"About what?"<br>"About where John is." Anthea frowned, at least he wasn't trying to figure out how to escape.

She dumped him rather forcefully down on his bed. Sherlock watched her go, he knew exactly what she was thinking, that he was incredibly hard to satisfy. He knew he had really annoyed her.

* * *

><p><em>I'm a mess in a dress, can't show up on time<br>Even if it would save my life  
>According to you, according to you<em>

Sherlock's next visitor was Lestrade. Lestrade always turned up when Sherlock was in hospital, mainly to yell at him for being an idiot. It was the standard view that Sherlock was an idiot at the moment amongst the Yard. Lestrade seemed to be the only one cutting him slack however. Even if Sherlock somehow seemed to have forgotten what had happened to John, how this was possible for even Sherlock Lestrade had no idea, the man's influence was sorely missed. He stopped the whole Yard murdering the smug, arrogant, consulting detective and now that he wasn't around it was causing problems. He had actually thought Donovan would murder him when she had asked

"_How's John?" _and Sherlock had replied  
>"<em>Nothing's wrong with John." <em>and then carried on deducing.

Lestrade opened the door and saw Sherlock, he looked as bad as he had last night, he had noticed Mycroft's assistant outside, she hadn't looked happy. Sherlock had already made one attempt at escaping then. He was a mess though. His face pale, his hair was damp with sweat and stuck to his forehead. His eyes were too alive, they were darting around the room.

"Sherlock what were you thinking?" Lestrade decided that ignoring Sherlock's health issues would be the best idea, no one got through there except for John. "There's a reason I didn't confiscate John's handgun after…" Lestrade trailed off breathed in and carried on. "It was to keep you from getting shot and stabbed. I'm in half a mind to arrest you for illegal possession of firearms. You could have died, what were you thinking?" Sherlock continued to stare at him.

"John." he said in a hoarse voice after a while.  
>"No I'm Lestrade, John isn't here."<br>"I'm fully aware of who you are. What happened to him. Why did I delete it? He was my friend, people don't delete their friends."  
>"You do."<br>"Not John, anyone but John." Lestrade stared at Sherlock, he actually looked distressed. Lestrade actually felt more angry at this, he looked so human but he had gone and forgotten his friend.  
>"You're a mess Sherlock." was all Lestrade said before he stormed out.<p>

* * *

><p><em>But according to him I'm beautiful, incredible<br>He can't get me out of his head  
>According to him I'm funny, irresistible<br>Everything he ever wanted_

Sherlock lay back and wished that John were there. John had a habit of making him feel better. John would get him released from this hospital. He would then tend to his wounds back in Baker Street whilst calling him 'idiot' but all the time these words would have an affectionate inflection that it wouldn't hurt Sherlock but make him feel cared for. Having John around to tend on him reminded him that there was actually someone there that cared about him, a lot. Despite finding John's insistence that he ate and slept regularly, he didn't have to worry about drinking, living with John and Mrs Hudson meant you were fed an endless supply of tea, annoying, he was touched by the concern that John showed for him.

* * *

><p><em>Everything is opposite, I don't feel like stopping it<br>So baby tell me what I got to lose  
>He's into me for everything I'm not<br>According to you_

Then there was the fact that John hands down thought Sherlock was brilliant. He didn't think that there was anyone out there smarter than him, which was misguided now that he knew about Moriarty. Sherlock silently cursed the name. John had always thought that he was amazing, he remembered the first time he'd explained his deductions and his reactions had been the polar opposite of everyone else's that he had found it so hard to believe it was real. To believe there was actually someone there who thought what Sherlock could do was brilliant. It was almost impossible to believe.

* * *

><p><em>According to you I'm boring, I'm moody<br>And you can't take me any place  
>According to you I suck at telling jokes<br>'Cause I always give it away_

Sergeant Donovon didn't know what had happened to get her punished like this. She had to get the statement of Sherlock Bloody Holmes. It also seemed that he was bored out of his mind because Lestrade had come back from the hospital in a foul mood and had proceeded to his office to make some phone calls and shouted at anyone who interrupted. That was the kind of behaviour that was often displayed after Sherlock destroyed something of the hospitals.

She was surprised, therefore, to find the Freak lying quite still in bed gazing at the ceiling. She had seen him like this once before and that had been very early on when he'd been on drugs but she knew that guy with the umbrella would skin the hospital people alive if that happened, she'd seen it after the explosion.

"Oi Freak."  
>"Donovon have you come to enlighten me."<br>"What?" Sally had no idea what he was talking about so decided to move on. "I need your statement."  
>"Dull."<br>"I need it."  
>"And I said dull."<br>"I could arrest you for withholding information from police investigation."  
>"Not in my state, and then I'd be bailed within the hour by Mycroft. Dull." Sally ground her teeth. He was really annoying her.<br>"Look Freak if you tell me what happened we get this over with quickly and then neither of us have to spend a second longer in each others company."  
>"But don't you agree that subtly poking and prodding at the last nerve of the person is a much more agreeable way to spend time." Sally sat there for half a minute working out what he meant before she got up and stormed out. Screw the statement! She wasn't going to be wound up and annoyed for Sherlock's amusement.<p>

* * *

><p><em>I'm the girl with the worst attention span<br>You're the boy who puts up with that  
>According to you, according to you<em>

His next distraction was in the shape of a parcel. It was handed to him and Sherlock opened it. Out fell a phone. A replica of John's phone to be precise, everything was identical down to the last scratch except this was asking for a password and John's didn't have one. He'd given up trying to keep Sherlock out. He paused. This was a replica of John's so that meant that the password would have something to do with him; John.

Why couldn't Sherlock remember what had happened? Why had it been wiped from his hard drive. He had always prided his selective and efficient memory but now it seemed faulty. It did not seem possible for him to wipe John from his memory or anything to do with John from his memory. He knew everything about John. He knew that John would always read the paper from start to finish in one go or he'd never read it at all. He knew that John would occasionally have nightmares about Afghanistan and that if he played Chopin's Nocturne it would pass faster and John wouldn't remember. He knew that when John lied he tilted his head to the right. The list went on. So what could he possibly not know about John? He even knew John's birthday, which was something seeing as he didn't know his own.

His birthday! Sherlock diverted his attention back to phone astounded he had been sidetracked like that, by thinking about a person. He tapped in 1-7-0-5, John's birthday was the seventeenth of May and waited. The code was accepted and the phone loaded. He left it sitting there and wondered whether it had anything to do with Moriarty. Phones, probably did. This was just like last time. To be honest, this time he wasn't in the mood for another game. Sure he wanted to be appreciated and to not be bored but he wanted John, he wanted to _know_. Sherlock hated not knowing things. He didn't bother trying to deduce anything from the phone. After two minutes it buzzed. John's ring tone. He was not surprised.

_**I'm bored and you're boring me, Sherlock. You don't want to make me bored.-M**_

M. He had known it was Moriarty, it had been very obvious. Did Moriarty have anything to do with John? John wasn't dead. He wouldn't have deleted that. If that was the case he would have filed him under deceased, that's what he did. So John was alive. He remembered Donovan asking if John was ok and 'Anthea' had said he wasn't around at the moment. Lestrade too had said that he hadn't taken the weapon after and then trailed off. Likely conclusion; John was injured. Badly. In hospital. But what had happened?

The phone went again.

_**What has gotten into you? Do you really miss Johnny boy so? I told you I'd burn your heart. I think our little games are at an end, Sherlock. I've won. You can't keep up with me. It took you minutes to break that password, you got soooo distracted. Even now you know it's me you're not thinking about me, and this won't do. I'll find someone else to play against. Someone with the right intellect levels. Say your brother.-M**_

* * *

><p><em>But according to him I'm beautiful, incredible<br>He can't get me out of his head  
>According to him I'm funny, irresistible<br>Everything he ever wanted_

Sherlock threw the phone against the wall in anger. It smashed which gave him satisfaction. Now Moriarty was just toying with him, making him jealous. Comparing his intellect to Mycroft's, they weren't in the same league. Well Moriarty wasn't going to get away that easily. He had hurt John. God, thought Sherlock, look what John's done to me. He's made me human. All because something in me that absolutely no one else could see. John believes I'm human and despite the danger that I've gotten him into, despite the damage I've done to our house, the fact I'm a useless flat mate, he always comes back. He thinks that much of me, he always believes I'll do what's right in the end. He always thinks I'll come out on the 'good' side. He's the only person that has ever seen that in me. Sherlock rubbed his forehead, being human was hard work.

* * *

><p><em>Everything is opposite, I don't feel like stopping it<br>So baby tell me what I got to lose  
>He's into me for everything I'm not<br>According to you_

In all honesty Sherlock guessed he should have seen that coming from the first time Sherlock had explained his deductions to him. He remembered John's response.

"_That was amazing."  
>"You think so?"<br>"Of course it was. It was extraordinary, it was quite extraordinary."  
><em>"_That's not what people normally say."  
><em>"_What do people normally say?"  
>"Piss off."<em> He remembered the smiles and the strange feeling he'd had that someone had thought what he could do was extraordinary and amazing and not something he was making up, or some freak habit of his. John was different and he saw Sherlock in a way no one else did.

* * *

><p><em>I need to feel appreciated<br>Like I'm not hated, oh no  
>Why can't you see me through his eyes?<br>It's too bad, you're making me dizzy_

Then John had just become someone that he had sounded off his deductions too, like his skull but so much better, because although he had to explain, John told him he was amazing instead of looking blankly at him with empty socket holes. He remembered what he'd said to John later that night.

"_It's the frailty of genius, John, needs an audience." _He had not missed the tone of voice in which he'd given his response. He was the audience of Sherlock's genius, at first. It had been frustrating when John had gone to work instead of going to crime scenes, 'Crime scenes don't pay the rent, Sherlock', and he'd had to put up with everyone scoffing at his deductions. If it wasn't that he'd die of boredom if he didn't go he'd happily not go and help the police and stay with the appreciative ears of John but alas he needed to go to crime scenes, they were the best mental stimulant London had to offer that wasn't a drug.

* * *

><p><em>But according to me you're stupid, you're useless<br>You can't do anything right_

The nurse had come in and picked up the phone and gave it back to Sherlock. Sherlock knew that Mycroft's assistant was outside. Lestrade and Donovan were probably having tantrums at the Yard. Mycroft was at his office. Moriarty was god only knows where with his criminal organisation. Mrs Hudson was at Baker Street and would visit tomorrow. The only question then was where was John? In hospital, Sherlock knew that. He had also been in hospital for six months, at least. This meant, as Mycroft was fully aware of his injuries, he would likely be in a private facility, like Sherlock was right now! He pulled out his phone and sent the same text to Mycroft and Lestrade.

_**John is in hospital. Moriarty put him there. This happened around six months ago. I erased it from my mind. Conclusion John is in a coma from the blast in the pool.-SH**_

The replies were almost instant.

_**Sorry Sherlock, can't say anything. You need to talk to Mycroft.-L**_

_**Well done Sherlock I didn't think that you had completely erased it from your mind and I was certain that you would come to the right conclusion in the end. Yes he is. I believe you erased the event from your mind after you found the trauma to great to deal with. You blamed yourself entirely, for what happened to John. It is the closest you have been to having a break down. You escaped unharmed, he saved your life. It was decided that you never find out until he woke up.-MH**_

Sherlock snarled when he read the last part, so that was what had happened. He felt like throwing his phone at the wall but decided against it. His brother had kept that from him. Kept his best friends condition from him. He pressed the call button.

"I need crutches."  
>"What?"<br>"Crutches, now." The lady hurried off to get them. He hauled himself out of bed.

"Whoa, where do you think you're going."  
>"Don't worry I'm not leaving I'm just going upstairs and I suggest you let me unless you want me to spill to Mycroft that you were the one that gave me most of the information to work out where John is." 'Anthea' shrunk back into her chair and let him haul himself along the corridor. She'd been stupid and careless and it looked like she'd landed herself in big trouble.<p>

* * *

><p><em>But according to him I'm beautiful, incredible<br>He can't get me out of his head  
>According to him I'm funny, irresistible<br>Everything he ever wanted_

Sherlock hauled himself out of the life ignoring all the looks he was getting from the doctors. He knew he had a recent stab wound and he should not be moving around like this but he had to go see John. He walked to the Intensive Care Unit where he knew he would be housed. He was stopped by one of the doctors.

"Are you alright?"  
>"Fine."<br>"You've been injured, you should be resting."  
>"I need to see my friend, John Watson."<br>"John Watson." the man sounded surprised. He walked off to the nurses station. "Who exactly are you?" he said after returning.  
>"Sherlock Holmes, flat mate, colleague, sort of, best friend." The man nodded.<br>"Just had to check, that bloke with the umbrella, um, Mycroft was very particular about visitors. Gave us a list said to let no one else and if there was anyone else there call the police."  
>"Who else is on the list?"<br>"Erm, there's not many, a Detective Inspector Lestrade, Mrs Hudson, his girlfriend Sarah, though she hasn't been for a while."  
>"Have I been before?" The doctor sent him a curious look.<br>"Are you suffering from concussion?"  
>"No. I just don't remember what I did around the time he got injured."<br>"Well if you did I don't remember you but I don't do every shift at this hospital. Come on I'll take you through." Sherlock nodded his thanks. "John woke up earlier."  
>"What?"<br>"I was going to call Mycroft but he said he was going to hospital, said someone had been stabbed." he then did a double take. "Oh for gods sake." he muttered.

"You said he was waking up."  
>"Oh yeah, well he's been responsive for weeks, and then it was just a couple of minutes but he's awake. Well he's not he's asleep but."<br>"He should regain consciousness tomorrow."  
>"Yes, exactly."<p>

Sherlock breathed easier, when he'd realised that John had been in a coma for six months he had been very worried indeed. He knew that there was only a 15% chance for a person who had been in a coma for longer than four months to make partial recovery, if the coma was induced by brain damage, less for a full recovery. However if John had been responsive for a while then that changed things. The thing that worried him was, would John be the same? Would John still think him brilliant and amazing or would he leave Sherlock because of the danger he had put him in? He knew John had needed the adrenaline before but now? Sherlock didn't know, he just didn't know and that greatly unsettled him.

* * *

><p><em>Everything is opposite, I don't feel like stopping it<br>Baby tell me what I got to lose  
>He's into me for everything I'm not<br>According to you, you  
>According to you, you<em>

Sherlock didn't register anything else until after the doctor had left. John's stint in the coma meant that all the physical wounds from the pool had healed and he looked like he was sleeping, except he was hooked up to machines. Sherlock could not believe Mycroft, Lestrade and Mrs Hudson had kept this from him. There wasn't anything particularly upsetting about seeing John like this. If they had thought it would bring back the old memories then they were mistaken. His memory was a hard drive, if he wiped something he couldn't bring it back. He could not imagine what John must have been like that had cause him to be so distressed that he had wiped the entire event from his memory. It would have been unconceivable to think that something like that could happen but since John, he wasn't so surprised. Sherlock also knew that he had no idea how to handle his own emotions, it wasn't surprising he'd had a shut down and wiped it. John would go spare about it and then forgive him because it was him. John was that person that accepted it was the different things about people that made them worth knowing.

"_There are lives at stake, actual human lives. Just so I know do you care about that at all?"  
><em>"_Will caring about them help me save them?"  
><em>"_No."  
>"Then I'll continue to not make that mistake."<br>"And you find that easy do you?"  
>"Very yes. I've disappointed you. Don't make people into heroes, John, heroes don't exist and if they did I wouldn't be one of them." <em>Sherlock had for the first time had to tear down someone's illusions of him and it hadn't been as easy as he thought it would be. It was unusual for someone to be disappointed in him. Though this time he knew he'd get off easy when he explained why. John would be touched and he'd forgive Sherlock. Looking at him now Sherlock realised that though John had thought Sherlock was a hero, honestly Sherlock was convinced it was the other way round.

* * *

><p><em>According to you I'm stupid, I'm useless<br>I can't do anything right_

Mycroft, Anthea, Lestrade and Donovan found him asleep in the chair next to John's bed several hours later. Mycroft had dropped back into the hospital to check on his brother and Lestrade and Donovan were there for the statement. None of them said anything as Anthea organised for a gurney to be brought up but they all exchanged a look saying.

'When will that idiot do as he's told?' but they all knew the answer, unless it's John; never.

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN: So here's another songfic. I have no idea why I keep writing them. This, again, was inspired by a youtube video it's called According to You-Sherlock/John {Sherlock/Everyone}. The link is posted below;  
>.comwatch?v=qDvVhV9n33A.  
>I think I will be posting a squel to this fic, I'm not 100% sure what song I'll be using but I'm thinking 'Need You Now' by Lady Antebellum-good idea?, but there's a plot here that I need to finish. It didn't start out with this plot it just sort of wrote it self and I thought I'd run with it but now I want to know what happens next 'cause I have no clue. Anyway drop a review.<br>Thanks for reading,  
>Sopphires<em>**


End file.
